Australians have a reputation
for loving marine cuisine – witness Paul Hogan’s (infamous) ‘Throw another shrimp on the barbie’
tourism campaign. In reality less than 5% of our weekly grocery budget goes on fish and
seafood and that is over twice the percentage we spent on them in the 1970s-80s
when Hoges’ campaign aired. We also
prefer the convenience of canned and frozen fish to preparing it fresh. These days we eat out significantly more than
we did 35 years ago; I don’t know how
often we choose fish/seafood when we dine at a restaurant or café but that impeccable
source, Wikipedia, claims fish and chips is our favourite take away (I would
have thought Thai or pizza).
Hoges sure knew how to get a good spot for his barbies!
Sydney’s Fish Markets hold
an almost iconic status. No ‘silly season’ reporting is complete without vision
or audio featuring supposedly seafood-mad Sydneysiders queuing there at dawn on
Christmas Eve to cart away kilos of prawns! Indeed Sydney Fish Markets, besides
being the supply hub for retailers and restaurants throughout the greater metropolitan
area, attract 3.5 million non-trade visits a year. Many people presumably take
their purchases home, but many eat sushi or fish and chips at the numerous food outlets there.
Last week I met up with some friends from the UK for lunch at
the Sydney Fish Markets. We had been to
Doyles, Watsons Bay on their previous trips and we
thought we’d give their more centralised restaurant a go. A few things struck
me: the fish markets, or what I could see of them (I’m temporarily in a
wheelchair) are not picturesque, they have a grotty industrial atmosphere, are
smelly and their site seems to be at least 50% crowded car park. The Doyles restaurant
is quite prosaic, with plastic chairs and tables and nothing to compare with
the ocean views of its eastern suburbs cousin. The patrons on that day were
overwhelmingly bussed-in Japanese tourists.
The Sydney Fish Markets at Blackwattle Bay, Pyrmont
It set me wondering: are the Fish Markets, like the Ploughman’s
Lunch, a kind of marketing ploy? Has a tawdry,
semi-industrial precinct been spruiked as a must-see tourist destination playing fast and loose with Sydney’s actual relationship with its fishing
industry?
I decided to investigate…
When the First Fleet
arrived in Port Jackson, six months on a diet of dried meat, rice and peas had left
its occupants craving fresh food. Of course what they most needed was fruit, vegetables and protein. The first category will have to wait for
another post. Their protein needs were met initially by roasting rats, crows, even dogs, and the occasional kangaroo or emu, and soon by trading with the indigenous population
for fish. Aboriginal fishing
technologies (e.g. spears, shell fishhooks and small canoes) were well developed
and fish made a substantial contribution
to the diet of the Cadigal people. By
contrast, the British colonisers were ill-equipped and poorly skilled in the fishing methods
required to catch Port Jackson’s 580 plus
fish species. They may not have had much of a taste for fish either.
Cadigal people of Port Jackson fishing soon after European settlement (source NSW State Library)
Although we know today
that fish is a good part of a healthy diet and many historical sources remark on how plentiful fish was at the
time, the early settlers eschewed fish (and fruit and veg for that matter)
preferring to maintain the meat-centric diet of their homelands. Mutton (lamb) quickly
became plentiful and cheap while beef and poultry were reserved for special occasions
such as Christmas and weddings.
Prior to the advent of
steam powered ships, refrigeration and haul net and trawling styles of
fishing, catching fish on a large
scale and keeping it fresh was quite a cumbersome business. Individual
fishermen sold their catches close to the harbour shores. The fish were often washed in
polluted water and sold directly from wharves. They spoiled
fast and any attempts to distribute them were made by horse drawn cart in the
cooler night time hours.
Water colour of European men fishing - early days of the colony (source NSW State Library)
Sydney had no central fish market
until 1872 when a grandiose building was erected by the city council on the block bounded by Forbes, Bourke and
Plunkett streets in Woolloomooloo. This commodious neo-classical brick building comprised two levels,
with administrative offices fronting Forbes
St and a lower building surrounding an inner
courtyard. A large central tower with a multi-faced clock and an
ornate curved copper hood topped the structure. Over the entrance was emblazoned 'M. Chapman -
Mayor' and 'A Market for the Sale of Fish’.
Sydney's first centralised fish markets in Woolloomooloo in their heyday. Exterior (above) and engraving of interior in 1875 with dead fish on concrete (below). Sources: City of Sydney Archive Pix and State Library of Victoria.
In his book, Sydney
Harbour - A History, Ian Hoskins
describes how fish were laid out in chalk
circles on the building’s concrete floor with the fisherman’s name inscribed
beside them. By now ice could be used to keep
fish fresh for longer but it is no surprise to learn that in Regency and
Victorian society fish was frequently consumed at breakfast time before it deteriorated. The short ‘shelf life’ of fish, as Hoskins
also discusses in his book, led many people
to eat only fish they had caught themselves. Doing so was clearly a cost saver
too.
Because of the proximity to the fish markets, oyster cafes proliferated in Sydney’s eastern end and suburbs in
the later 19thC. Whether the markets themselves had capacity to serve seafood
for direct consumption doesn’t seem to be recorded anywhere. Presumably there was something to draw patrons
though as Shirley Fitzgerald in her
entry on Woolloomooloo in The Dictionary of Sydney, mentions
that ‘fights at the fishmarkets and in the pubs around the wharf (became) daily occurrences’ during this period
and contributed to the social decline of
the area.
Early 20thC - the 'new' Fish Market cnr Engine & Thomas Streets, Haymarket
White sign with black lettering in centre of picture proclaims 'FISH' - this looks like the retail section (source City of Sydney Archive Pix).
In 1911, a
new Fish Market opened on the corners of Thomas & Engine Streets in the Haymarket
area. The City of Sydney Council photo archive has photographs
of it under construction and by 1919 there
was a retail shop attached. Again it is only supposition, but I assume that
meals could be had or at least you could buy a bottle of oysters to go. My
paternal grandmother enjoyed bottled oysters with vinegar, bread and
butter all her life. Her purchases very likely originated from one of
the many government–licensed fish agents operating out of the Haymarket premises.
However in their mid 20thC
incarnation there was nothing inviting
about the Sydney Fish Markets which had been modernised to remove all character and from photos do not
seem to feature any retail outlet or eatery.
What the Haymarket premises looked like by the 1960s (source: City of Sydney Archive Pix).
Between the two world wars
increasing focus was placed on the production of fish for domestic consumption and
to reduce Australia’s
reliance on food imports. After World War II attention turned to developing the
industry for the export market. Lamb remained Australians’ preferred dinner
time protein well into the 1970s. I don’t have stats to back this up but I’d guess that various waves of immigrants have increased Sydney’s appetite for
seafood. It is after all a staple of the Mediterranean
and Asian diets. The Sydney Fish Markets
relocated to their current site at Blackwattle
Bay in 1966. They were
privatised in 1994 . The management trust comprises families and networks of
Italian, Greek and Chinese Australians which reflects the central place fish
consumption plays in these cultures.
In a recent article on the Fish
Markets bemoaning the abandonment of plans to improve them, Matt Khoury lambastes
the state government and shareholders, the Catchers Trust and the Sydney Fish
Market Tenants and Merchants Pty Ltd, for their lack of attention and to both
the aesthetic and environmental aspects of the markets. This is how he
describes the market:
While it sells itself as a tourist attraction, the smelly fish market
has been an exercise in self-interest for decades. As it stands, plastic seats
on metal stands overlook the dirty and aptly named Blackwattle Bay.
Heritage falls apart on the harbor's (sic) shore, iron
rusts, and there is no foreshore access. Two huge cement factories that
dominate the view around the bay pollute the water.
All that is not a disincentive to
the 3.5 million annual visitors and is irrelevant to the restauranteurs and suburban fishmongers who source their product from the market. It
will be interesting to watch how the venue evolves and to see if a working market and a tourist/recreational magnet can flourish side by side.
The seagulls like the Sydney Fish Markets just the way they are!
